


Today is a Gift, That's Why They Call it the Present

by grumblesandmumbles



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Anal Sex, Child Abuse, Drug Use, Guardian Angels, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3610884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumblesandmumbles/pseuds/grumblesandmumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey has flirted with disaster more than a few times in his life, but has been lucky enough to have a guardian angel to get him out of his worst jams. But what can he do when he realizes he wants more than this situation can give him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Today is a Gift, That's Why They Call it the Present

The first time Mickey hears the voice, he's 10 years old and convinced that he's lost his mind.

 _That's not a good idea. Don't do it._

The voice is vaguely familiar, another child's voice, but he can't place it. He looks around, but all he sees is Terry passed out on the couch in a drugged haze. Mickey had been reaching for his pocket knife, planning to hide it away in case he ever needed it, when the voice had spoken. He might have been a kid, but growing up in the Milkovich house didn't exactly foster childhood and imagination. He shook his head, figuring he could shake some sense into himself and reached for the knife again.

_Leave it alone._

He ignores it and keeps stretching his hand. Suddenly, Terry's eyes are open and he grabs Mickey's wrist, lightning quick. "Fuck you think you're doing?" 

Before he can come up with an argument or excuse, he feels a blow to his temple that knocks him on the floor. After that, it's just a blur of fists and shouts. He's learned in his 10 years to tune out the details. It makes it easier to sleep at night. Later, he's in his room and Mandy sneaks him a bag of frozen french fries to put over his swollen face. He's lying in his bed with the bag over his eyes when he hears the voice again. 

_I tried to warn you._

He shoots up, already in defensive mode and wanting answers. "Who the fuck are you?" 

He looks in his closet, under the bed, but there is no one in this room but him. "Am I going crazy? I don't want to be crazy." He shoves a hand through his hair, seriously considering that this family has driven him over the edge. 

_You're not crazy._

Mickey peeks out the window, wondering if his brothers aren't out there, pranking him. But there's no one. "If I'm not, tell me who you are and why I can't see you." There's is a long pause of silence before he hears an answer he can't believe. 

_I'm your guardian angel._

Mickey actually laughs. He's old enough to know what his family is, and he knows there is nothing holy about them. "Yea right. Nobody's coming to save this family, we're fucked for life." 

_You're not._

He lays back in bed, tossing the now melting bag of fries on the floor. "It's only a matter of time." He's nearly asleep when he hears the voice one last time. 

_Even if you don't believe in me, I believe in you. I'll be there when you need me most._

\---------------------

The second time Mickey hears the voice, he's 13 and two major things have occurred in Mickey's life. One, he's been brought into the fold of the family's illegal enterprises and two, he's figured out that he's gay. The former was to be expected, but the latter terrifies him, especially the idea of anyone finding out. Mickey has always been indifferent about dating and sex. It wasn't until he was peer pressured to "stick it in some bitch already" that he realized the idea of it didn't appeal to him. He had tried it once or twice at the insistence of his brothers, and somehow it had just felt wrong. He still didn't really understand his sexuality until he realized when his brothers would put on porn, he found himself focused on the male actors. It awakened something in Mickey he never knew existed. He had the house to himself for the weekend, Terry had taken his brothers out of state on a run and Mandy was at their aunt's, laying low after a rough few weeks in the Milkovich house, and he figured this would be the best time to experiment with some gay porn he managed to steal. Seeing two men together topped trying to watch one half of a regular porn, for sure. He was getting pretty into it and could feel that he was aroused when he heard the phantom voice in the room. _Hide the tape._ The first incident was nothing but a long lost memory by now, so at first Mickey found himself looking around, trying to figure out who had spoken. "Whoever the fuck you are, you better get out of my fucking house or you will regret it. I've got a gun." It was true. The house was stocked with weapons. But the voice wasn't deterred. _The tape. Hide the tape. Now._ He didn't understand at first, until he heard a ruckus outside and realized that for whatever reason, Terry and his brothers weren't out of state, they were right there in the street making their way up to the house. Mickey frantically pounded the eject button on their old VCR until the tape popped out and he ran into his room, hiding the tape in a hole he had punched in the wall behind his dresser. He's barely moved the dresser back against the wall when he hears them all come in, loud as ever. He comes out and asks, "Why are you guys back already?" Terry grabs a beer from the fridge and said, "Deal went sour. Had to take out the trash. Shit happens, on to the next. Remember that kid, don't waste time stressing about shit you can't change. And don't forget where you bury the bodies." Mickey's mouth went dry. He knew that his father talked a lot of shit about family, but would be the first one to line up against Mickey if he found out about him. He decided right then that he would just have to live a lie if it would literally keep him alive. Later, the voice came back to whisper to him again, and this time he made the connection to the incident three years before. _I told you I'd be there when you need me most._

\--------------------

Mickey started thinking about the voice. He was pretty sure that he wasn't crazy, but he still had no logical explanation for it. He didn't do well with anything that had to do with fantasy, imagination or blind faith. Mickey was facts, figures, numbers, things you could grasp and calculate. He was rational. But he couldn't explain that voice, unless he accepted that it was in his mind, but that just didn't feel right. He wished many times over the years for the voice to come back, but he didn't hear it again until he was 17. Terry was in prison, as were Joey and Jamie, and that had left Mickey, Iggy and Colin to run things. They were planning a robbery, an electronics store that they had been casing for weeks. They had covered the details over and over, but hadn't taken the owner thinking he was a cowboy into account. Instead of just handing over the money, he had whipped out a gun and aimed it right at Mickey's chest. Mickey tried to make a run for it, and felt a shove as the gun discharged. He fell to the floor, the bullet whizzing over him. After that, he didn't hesitate. He scrambled to his feet and fled the store. He didn't even go to the getaway car, he just kept on running. He lost track of how far he ran until he wound up at the abandoned buildings he liked to go to. He trudged slowly up the stairs as his breath caught up to him and his heart stopped trying to pound its way through his chest. By the time he got to the top floor, the adrenaline rush had wore off and he had to sit down. He leaned back on the wall and slid down until he was on the floor. He started playing back the events in his mind. Colin had been in the getaway car and Iggy had been too far to reach him. There was no explanation for being shoved out of harm's way. Except one. 

_It would be much easier to be your guardian angel if you stopped doing such dumb shit._ The voice appeared on the breeze, and Mickey didn't want it to just go away like the other two times it had spoken to him. "Who are you?" _I told you already._ "I know, you're my guardian angel. But who are you? Did I know you once?" _Yes._ "Well then what's your name?" _Ian. It means gift from God._ "Are you supposed to be a gift to me?" _I'm your guardian angel. You can think of it how you choose._ Mickey paused, turning the name over in his head, trying to think of who Ian was. "You said your name is Ian? The only Ian I know is Ian Gallagher, we were in little league together until I got myself kicked off the team." The voice was quiet at first, and then finally answered. _The one and only._ Mickey was taken aback for a moment. "Shit, you died? What the fuck happened?" _Car accident._ Mickey concentrated, trying to remember what the kid had looked like. He hadn't known him very well. He vaguely remembered that he had red hair and freckles, but the details were vague. "I'm sorry." There was no response, but something felt different to Mickey, as if there was a change in the air. He thought that he could feel Ian's presence. It occurred to him that this really would sound nutty to anyone else, but he was sitting here having a conversation with a ghost or an angel or whatever this was. "If anyone saw me right now, they'd think I was a headcase." The voice came again. _Do you think you are?_ Mickey considered this before finally replying, "No." _Good. Because you're not._

Mickey shook a cigarette from the pack that was in his pocket and lit it. He blew the smoke up in the air and said, "You don't sound like a kid. Weren't you younger than me?" _My soul has aged with time just like you age._ Mickey shrugged. He might as well take the answer at face value, it made as much sense as any of the rest of this situation. "So, how does this work? Do you always just follow me around, or do you get some sort of fuckin' bat signal when I'm in trouble and you teleport over?" _I don't really know. I just show up when you need me, I don't know how it works._ Mickey couldn't help but feel amused that even the guardian angel didn't know what the fuck was going on. It shouldn't have reassured him, but somehow it did. "I wonder what you would look like now." The words were out of Mickey's mouth before he could stop himself. He felt an instant pang of guilt, talking to a dead boy about what he would look like if he were alive. "Shit. Sorry." _It's okay._ Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and got up. "Um, I should get home before my brothers think something happened to me. How does this work? You're not just going to follow me around all the time, are you?" _No. I'll be there when you need me._ Mickey hesitates for a moment, wanting to say something else but unsure what. It didn't matter though. He felt the change in the air and knew he was alone again. That night, he dreamed in flashes. Red hair, sharp jaw, pale skin spattered with freckles. Broken images of what should have been.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang with me on Tumblr [here](http://grumblesandmumbles.tumblr.com)!


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